#interior window sill

[huariqueje]

Amaryllis - Henrik Hold , 2018.

German b. 1971 -

Oil on cotton , 160 x 120 cm.

[remodelproj]

An diagonal wall placement provides opportunity to create a window shelf that becomes a feature of the bathroom

[grimini]

[onelovestill]

[elizjjwold]

by Elizabeth Johnson-Wold

[deepdarkdungeondubstep]

Orange County Traditional Living Room

[darkdemeter]

☾ phases collection issue #6 THE NEIGHBOUR IS A WEREWOLF!

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x GN/Male/Female Neighbour!Werewolf!Reader mature 18+ — depictions and general fic about two pining neighbours, cute fluffy stuff, some sexual innuendos and undertones, a little bit of sexual themes towards the end — I think that's it? ✎ 2.5k She is the sweetest little thing you could have live right over the fence. Like a... well, dog, you'd been intrigued by her from day one and you've noticed... she has too. Little does she know, her "cute dog in the next yard" is quite literally that. A werewolf.

✎ ———

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

What would Wanda Maximoff do without you as her neighbour?

“Come on!” Wanda scoffs aloud, huffing with a drastic drop of her shoulders. “Not now… not now, please?” 

Her hands ring and strangle tightly around the circlet of her steering wheel. Face scrunched in her annoyance and ire, aware that she’s cutting it close to being late for work. 

“There a problem, Wands?” She jumps in her seat with a short gasp, blinking away the blur of mad tears. Fuck, not now. Of all people, please not you. 

Your hands rest to curl over the wound-down sill of her window, body hunched down from your taller height and only making the muscles beneath your white shirt bulge. The way they cut off in the rolled coils at your elbows, the slight give of the top’s hem hanging loose at your collarbone, causing a spread of heat to mask her cheeks. 

“Y-yeah, uh…” she looks away and down at the radio for a moment. Mindlessly and to distract herself, she plays with the buttons. “My car just suddenly shit itself and I’m going to be late for work.”

Tongue poked into your cheek, you give the hood a once over look with a sharpened appraisal. Fuck, how she could stare into your eyes for hours without growing tired. Their the most beautiful shade, sometimes catching in the light and she swears she catches this honey, amber shine in them for a second. 

“I can take you to work if you’d like,” you offer calmly with a shrug, “can fix her up for you while you're out at work.”

“O-oh, I—” Is she burning up? Wanda clears her throat, tempted to fan her face of its flush. “I’d appreciate it, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

You shrug again, cheeks pulling back into a toothy grin. She swears that with a small squint of her eyes she can make out the very faint way that your canines are a little sharper than anyone she’s ever met. Animalistically so. 

You’ve already pulled her door open and she quickly gathers her bag and gets out. Following alongside you, you lead her into your front yard and towards the open mouth of your garage. You pop open the passenger door of your car and she gets in, easing herself against the column seat of leather and doesn’t wait long until you get into the driver’s seat. It’s a very nice car, nothing too modern. A tan, light roof 1967 Chevrolet Impala with fine workings of white strips and restored wooden interiors. She can tell just how much love went into every detail.

“Alright, ready, sweetheart?” you tease with that sly grin and she nods, unable to trust in her words. 

From day one you have been a top neighbour. Welcoming and friendly, when she began to move her boxes into her new house, you were there at the truck’s side asking if she needed a helping hand. Of course, she took note of the scrap of metal sitting in your driveway that screamed for help more than her, but something about that charm you have made her accept instead. 

Eager, you began to haul in several boxes at a time, saving her at least an hour’s more work. 

She could never forget such kindness. It was scary to move somewhere completely new, heavy with doubt that she’d make any close friends so soon. Yet there you were, like a dog in the yard wagging your tail and hopeful, puppy eyes as you introduced yourself. 

From then on, you were always around in a way. Every morning when she’d make herself a cup of coffee and some breakfast, she’d see you out in your yard going about whatever it was you were doing that day. Touching up some of the broken pitches in the fence, weeding the hedges or— how she’d go bright red in seeing you in the farther corner of the backyard chopping logs of wood. 

She would quickly duck out of sight behind the floral pattern of her curtains just as you walked past, huffing, sweaty and carrying a load of wood that would take two men combined to haul. 

It was always a marvel and mystery of the things you could do, the small and sort of oddities she found. But it mattered little the moment she came home from work to find you half beneath the body of a car you were working on in your driveway, stereo turned up on full blast playing older music dated to the sixties at least. The way your stained jeans hug the muscle of your legs, knees spread to reveal the sturdy space of your lap and the junction between your legs. 

She had to think quickly and be smart in order to not get caught ogling at you when you spring out on the wheeled bed, tool in hand and hands covered darkly in car grime. How you always speak to her with that rumbly timbre edged into the vocal range of your voice, it sends tingles down her spine and shooting into her core, leaving her with a dampened spot in her panties that she has to now deal with after she shuts her front door at her heel. 

The things she would allow you to do with her if she just had the courage to ask. The things you would gladly do to her if she just gave you a chance. But there were other things that you’re better off keeping to yourself and those chores were often curated around a time when you knew she wasn’t home or when it was late and under the cover of night.

Those same tunes play quietly on the stereo ambience in the car. “You sure like this song,” she says with a short giggle. Humming and eyes flickering to hers for a second, your mouth spreads into a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah, it’s a good song. I’ve always enjoyed it.�� Your days are fueled by the drone of your old music playing in the background. It keeps you calmer in the more rather… intense moments. 

“I like it.” Wanda now grins, toothy and bright and you can’t explain why, but it fills you with a sense of relief – maybe even pride - that Wanda has taken a liking. Ever since she moved in, this song has become more of a nail in the coffin for you, finally able to see her as at the edge of your own reality. 

‘Thank you, Elvis.’

Your arm reaches down and shifts the gears and speed off down the road.

Just as you promised, you worked on Wanda’s car throughout the day. Tinkering away with the engine, ensuring that the oil was done and changed and wiping your hands over and over messily with the stained rag tucked into your belt. 

“Fucking Hell, Wanda. You live next door to that? And you haven’t pounced on them yet?” Wanda feels her face grow hot, blushing with that sore pinkish colour as she attempts to hide in the high collar of her sweater. 

Her co-worker remains guilty of staring at you — or at least the lower half of you laying from underneath the car — and Wanda scolds her for drooling all over her pants. 

“I’m just saying, if you need a roommate—”

“Oh no,” Wanda quickly interjects, gathering her bag, “I will not become the proxy of a creepy, perv neighbour.”

“Wanda, please, I’m begging you! Just one night to sleep over. Huh, my car has curiously stopped working, do you think that they could uhm… see what the problem is?”

Wanda rolls her eyes with a loud sigh. “You’re so bad, and I mean that in a: ‘get home and have a cold shower’ way.”

Her co-worker shakes her head, her lips sinking inward. “Uh uh. I’m using my vibrator all night long for this one.”

Wanda’s nose scrunches but she fails to conceal her laughter. “Ew!”

She gets out of the car and begins to walk up the pavement of her driveway. She watches the allure of you roll yourself out with a finalising sigh only to find her gaze and grin widely. Those sharper fangs in full view. 

Those adoring, puppy-like eyes and the ever so slight tilt of your head. 

“Hey, Wands.” You scurry outward that bit more and stand, your towering height shadows over her and the afternoon sun paints against your back and shoulders. Your hair is mused and slick, your clothes and smears of your skin in dire need of a wash and your hands are covered to the elbow in a gradient grime.

“Hey, Y/N. Working hard?” 

You chuckle lowly and nod. You do your best to wipe yourself clear to no altering difference. But Wanda finds the charm in the way you look. It’s something she can sense about you that you enjoy a good scalp scratch. She becomes internally greedy and wishful to coddle you and perhaps have an excuse to see you wrapped in nothing but a towel around your waist and skin glowing with the shiny jewels of the dribbling shower water. 

Just as you’re about to invite Wanda to finally test out her car’s health, you pick up the rapid pace of heels clapping on the driveway and see another woman who approaches fast. “Who’s this?” you ask. Wanda, stumbling over her words, introduces her co-worker to you.

With a dip of your chin and lashes framing the unsure, almost shy quarter of your gaze ducks away and only relax when able to find Wanda. 

“H-hi, I’m having car issues of my own. Could I trouble you to take a quick look?”

One of your brows quirk up. You can smell some form of arousal on this woman and the way she looks up at you, blinking, you already put two and two together. You give a shrug on your shoulders anyhow. “Sure.”

You make your way over to the car that you know is in working order by the smell of the freshly changed oil and the tinge of the hot engine. You pop the hood open and quick as anything, you identify the problem. 

Wanda’s entire body grows cold then hot under the stare of your eyes, a little narrowed and pupils raised up to seemingly sink out of view. She thinks she catches that strange anomaly of amber gold flash in your eyes.

“What did you do?” she whispers with a quiet hiss. Her co-worker looks sinfully sheepish and holds up a small object in her hands. She answers quickly with a huff. “I took this thing out.”

Both women go still when your fingers pluck the object out from her hand, a dark smirk crossing your lips as your glare turns to look Wanda up and down, taking her in in her entirety. How did you reach them so quickly without making a single sound?

“Found the problem.”

“O-oh!” 

You adjust the stolen piece back into its proper place and push the hood down with a hard, resounding thud and slap your hand down in it, announcing your finished work. 

“She’s ready to go. An easy fix.”

Wanda has to shoo and shove her dear, embarrassed co-worker back into her driver’s seat and waves her off, watching the poor girl drive home dejected. No harm, no foul to the woman but she wasn’t the one you were interested in. There was little point in indulging in lesser affairs when the one you truly wanted stood no more than a few inches from you. 

“She’s a sweet girl, really. She just…” Wanda’s eyes shy away from yours the moment you snort, smirking down at her and she scratches at the shell of her ear. Was there really an excuse for that kind of behaviour? Maybe not, but Wanda has questioned herself once or twice after a semi mind-blowing orgasm session to her vibrator at the thought of you and why it was that you never appear to be seeing anyone, or bring a single person home for even a one night stand? Plenty of her other neighbours did. And her co-worker’s attempt to try and get her foot in the door couldn’t be blamed fully. You have this roguish appearance, intimidating yet somehow friendly. Wanda never once has had to worry about any sort of trouble such as robbers breaking in because she feels assured and protected that you’re right next door. 

Little to her knowledge, you’ve caught the odd robber trying his luck at busting the lock of her front door in the middle of the night. And there you had been, standing with a shovel in one hand, a thick and sturdy chain in the other and hidden behind the picket fence. 

All you had to do was let the wolfish glow of amber show and ask with a rumbled tone, “What’d you think you’re doing?”

And the robber high-tailed it, complexion paled in comparison to the dark attire he wore.

Your hands pat and paw at the roughened texture of your jeans. With a cock of your head, you indicate to Wanda to follow you. “Come on. Let’s see if my day’s work paid off.”

Giddy and cheeks finally cooling down, Wanda joins you and she slides in. She puts her keys into the ignition and turns it, the car’s engine purrs to life with a steady rumble and she giggles aloud, hands clapping together.

“Shit, that sounds better than before.”

You lean down until your face appears in the window. “Glad to hear it.”

“How can I repay you?” The question leaves over the plump of her lips before she could even register it. 

Would it be wrong to use this as your chance? Your brows line into a considering furrow, lips twisting into a pursed form before you respond. “How about a date tomorrow night?”

You worry you’ve gone too far but when her cheeks fold back into that dimpled, toothy smile and her dark lashes flutter, abashed and her face glowing red, she nods. “Sure, I’d like that.”

The engine purrs low before the rattling kink silences it, shutting it off. 

“It’s really beautiful up here,” Wanda sighs with a smile. 

“Yeah. I like to come up here when I need to get away from things in the neighbourhood.”

Her eyes finally fall away from the view to find you and you turn your gaze to hers. 

“Even me?” she asks smoothly. 

Easily in her tone you register the sounded jest but all the same, it pulls a quiet and caught whine from your throat. 

You shake your head. “No. You’re the only thing I hate leaving behind when I get away.”

You see the way her creamy green eyes move, flittering up and down from your own eyes to your lips then back up. You cannot help but copy the motion. 

She moves in and something inside you, a desperate hunger, meets her halfway and begins to pull her from her passenger seat until she straddles your waist. 

[angel-eyes05]

What's In A Name

pairing: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

summary: as a master thief, you pride yourself on never getting caught. that is until you're caught by the straw hats as you try stealing from their ship. unable to turn you in to the authorities just yet, they'll have to make due with storing you on the going merry in the meantime. but, your time in confinement has allowed you to get particularly close to a certain swordsman. how close the two of you get is to be decided though.

warnings/info: nsfw mdni, oral sex (fem receiving), alcohol consumption, drunk/tipsy sex, face riding, my own sex headcanons for zoro are VERY clear here lmao ,takes place in between jaya and skypiea (please pretend theres more time at sea in between those arcs cause this will not work otherwise OK THANKS), this is for the pre-time skip zoro girlies (he's 19 pre-time skip dont come for me), no use of y/n, the first half of this is just cute shenanigans between reader and the straw hats. its a lot of character building stuff but i like it.

word count: 6.3k

notes: HI GUYS IM BACK IVE MADE MY RETURN I FOUND SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!!!! and its the longest fic ive ever written too god damn what a comeback lmao. ok so i started watching one piece and im head over heels in love with this man...but i'm only up to water 7 rn so i only know how to properly write for pre-time skip zoro so thats how this is gonna go. i was looking for zoro/one piece fics to read but theyre literally all established relationship ones which aren't my cup of tea so im doing it myself lmao. also i didnt proofread i got too lazy sorry if some stuff doesnt make sense sorry sorry sorry but im a simple lazy tired girlie lmao enjoy!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You didn’t know any of their names.

You had been aboard the Going Merry for about three weeks now, and you still hadn’t learned anyone’s names. Granted, your reason for being there wasn’t to make friends anyway. That wasn’t particularly easy to do, being tied up in some storage closet and all. 

Being one of the few residents who actually lived on Jaya had allowed you to pick up a skill or two when it came to stealing. Pirates with big bounties and even bigger treasures left their ships unattended at the docks, leaving you with some perfect quick heists from time to time. Some steals were easier than others. As much as you believed in your talents, most of the time your ability to get out unscathed was based purely on the luck of the draw. It wasn’t an easy life, many recent nights leaving you with more injuries than berries and gold pieces, but it was all you knew having lived here for so long. 

After having taken a break from heists for a bit, you finally laid your eyes on a ship worth stealing from. A pirate ship with a goat out in front and seemingly orange trees next to the helm. Most of the ships at the dock had been there for a while, leaving the pirates on board used to your tricks already. Being low on cash was another factor. So, after a bit of planning, you made your way onto the ship.

Earlier, you had found that one of the windows to a cabin had been left open, so you decided to make your entrance through there. You gathered your things and dove into the crystal blue water by the dock. Once you made it to the back of the ship, you took your rope, with your own handmade grappling hook at the end, and swung it to hook on the window sill. Luckily for you, it stuck the landing on the first try. You smirked to yourself and used the hook as leverage to climb up onto the ship. Unfortunately, this seemed to be the ship’s bathroom. Not super ideal. You’d have to venture more out into the ship. But with this came the risk of getting caught. Given your dire circumstances though, it was a risk you were willing to take.

With an attempt to make as little creak as possible, you slightly opened the door into the rest of the interior. Coast was clear so far. Suddenly, a shake rattled throughout the interior. You tumbled onto the floor, pushing open a door due to your unbalance. What the fuck was that, you thought to yourself. It quickly became no matter though, when you noticed the door had opened up to a room with a treasure chest tucked away in the back. Jackpot. You slyly made your way into the room and shut the door behind you. 

The room was neatly kept, with bookshelves, a couch, two sleeping hammocks, and a desk with navigation tools on it. There was even a bar. Though temptation pursued at you, you had to stay on task. While making your way over to the chest, you heard different creaks vibrating across the walls of the ship. You prayed to yourself that it was just the wood’s reaction to the waves. As you had predicted, the chest was locked, so you searched your bag for anything that could key the lock. 

Time became of the essence quickly as the thuds and creaks on the ship grew louder and louder. Finally, the lock to the chest made a perfect click, as the chest unlocked. You lifted the roof of the chest to find a sight for sore eyes: jewels and gold galore. This was it, you were set. You were so in awe with the vision before you, that you had failed to notice the woman standing behind you. The image you saw in one of the emeralds was a tall figure, with jet-black hair just below her shoulders, and dazzling blue eyes. “Looking for something?” the woman questioned, almost sarcastically. You seemed to have forgotten rule number one of thieving. Remember to lock the door behind you.

Quick on your feet, you whip around to throw a punch in her face, but her reflexes seem to be quicker than yours by the way she catches your fist. You then attempt to kick out her legs. The image you see next shakes you to your core. A hand, seeming to appear out of thin air, attaches itself to your calf. The hand then slowly raises your fear-frozen body into the air, dangling you upside down like a party toy. You attempt to throw more hits at her, all seeming to be in vain though. You kick and scream, like a child throwing a tantrum, in an attempt to get out. The woman looks out into the hallway and signals over another one of her companions. Fuck, this is turning sour fast. Before you can make out any other features of the man, besides his cartoonishly long nose, he uses his slingshot to pelt a rock towards your forehead. Your vision goes black as the rest of the pirates rush into the room.

The rough fibers of the rope tying your wrists together were the first thing you felt as you woke up. This was quickly followed by the underlying nausea from the waves rocking the boat, reminding you why you preferred to stay on land. You attempted to stand up, but your dizziness and the rope tying you to the floor weren’t letting you get very far. Suddenly, the door to whatever room you were in swung open, and the group of 7 pirates living on board entered the room. You slinked yourself along the back wall, attempting to disappear into your skin. You weren’t sure what felt worse: The fear of what they were going to do to you, or the embarrassment that you had been doing this for so long and still got caught.

Nope, definitely the embarrassment.

The man, no boy was a better word to describe him, standing in the middle of them attempted to speak to you before a woman with short orange hair cut him off. “If you think we’re gonna let you get off easily just because we’re also pirates, you’d be sorely mistaken!” she spoke, fiery anger lacing her words. The tall woman from earlier put her hand on her shoulder, calming her down, and walked out towards you. You tried to scoot away as much as you could as she crouched down to your level. 

“Listen, we want this to be over as much as you do. We would love nothing more than to get you off our ship and drop you off at the nearest island. But unfortunately for us, that would mean having to find a group of marines to hand you over to, who we aren’t the best of friends with right now. And we can’t drop you back off at Jaya since we’re too far by this point. So, for now, we’ll just have to keep you tied down here if that works out with you.” You began to speak before the woman cut you off. “You don’t have much of a choice in the matter by the way.”

She stood back up and began to exit the room, the other pirates following her except for two. The boy with the straw hat and another man, with striking green hair and three swords lying in a holster on his belt. The boy looked somberly at you as if he was against this whole idea. But the green-haired one just stared at you. As uncomfortable as it made you feel, you couldn’t help staring back into his piercingly soft eyes. “Come on, let’s go,” the green-haired man said to the boy, finally breaking eye contact and turning his back to leave. The boy followed him shortly after. As he closed the door, you had nothing left to focus on except for the itchiness of the rope, the empty stuffiness surrounding the storage room, and your worsening seasickness.

The following weeks had the same routine. Each of the pirates on board took individual shifts watching you during the day when they were just out at sea. The strange reindeer creature would watch you when they were out on islands. The first shift was taken by the tall black-haired woman. She would come in at the break of dawn to make sure you didn’t find some way to escape at night. You two would sit in silence for a little more than two hours, asking and answering some questions before switching spots with the blonde one. His company was strange, with him hitting on you at random points in your conversations, but he always brought you breakfast in the morning. As much as he made you uncomfortable sometimes, you couldn’t deny that his cooking was the best you’d had in years. He’d even let you take a hit off his cigarettes if you ever asked, so his visits had its perks. 

The next shift was taken by the orange-haired one. The first thing she would always do when walking into the room was ask you how creepy the blonde one was. The answer varied on the day. Once she warmed up to you, she would bring you tangerines from the trees out on the deck. As the days passed, she eventually explained that the treasure you attempted to steal belonged to her, which you begrudgingly apologized for. On some level, you felt bad. These seemed to be small-time pirates, just trying to get by like you were. The more you learned about each of them, the worse you felt about your actions towards them. 

Around lunchtime, the long-nosed one would bring you your meal, cooked again by the blonde man. This member would go into detail about his next invention he was working on in his workshop. You admired his passion and energy towards his craft. His rants and rambles were normally interrupted by the reindeer creature coming in for his shift, causing intense, yet entertaining, arguments to break out between the two of them. The reindeer was the sweetest of all the crew members, always checking in on your health and helping you with your seasickness. He would talk about his home and his experiences there. You developed a pity for the creature. His presence was calming, and you felt as if you could let your guard down around him. That would change as soon as the straw hat boy would come bouncing into the room, scaring both you and the animal. You would soon come to learn the energetic boy was the captain of the ship, which shocked you. But you soon came to understand why. His crew had a massive respect for him, even if he was the root of half their problems.

Being on the ship, you got extremely close to all the pirates. Even the tall woman from before seemed to respect you in some way. You enjoyed all of their company. There was something strange about them though. One morning early in your stay on the ship, you could’ve sworn you’d heard the tall woman say something to the rest of the crew. 

“Whatever you do, don’t tell her your name. Your name is your biggest secret.”

You didn’t know any of their names. You had thought you heard some of them speak it to each other in passing conversations, but not enough to remember who was who. You had bonded with them, but if someone put a gun to your head and told you to name your prison guard pirates, you’d be dead in seconds.

Except for one.

Zoro seemed to be his name. He would come in for the last shift. His presence didn’t frighten you, but it slightly intimidated you. His habit of carrying his swords everywhere he went wasn’t helping. He was silent his entire shift, normally dosing off halfway through after spending around an hour sharpening his swords You didn’t even attempt to make conversation with him. You found out his name when the captain would yell for him to get back to his sleeping quarters. “Zoro! Your shift’s done, you can sleep for real now!” he shouted across the hall the first time it happened. Zoro almost bounced up from his sleep and gave you one look before bolting out of the room to catch up to the captain. You could hear the echoes of their bickering from down the hall as you giggled to yourself. At least he didn’t seem to always be that stern.

It seemed crazy to you. His name was the only one you knew, yet you knew the least about him. He had hardly said 5 sentences to you in the three weeks you had been on the boat. His stoicism was one of the things that drew you into him though. Something about his demeanor, how intensely he would sharpen his swords, how his worries seemed to melt away the minute he escaped into a slumber, and how alive he seemed when he was with his crew. It was enticing. You wanted to know more. You attempted asking him questions about himself, but the most you would get were one to two-word answers. The most you got from him was when your seasickness finally got to you, causing you to puke up the dinner the blonde one made for you. “Woah, are you okay?” he asked concernedly, shooting up from his seat. When your only response was a cough and more puke, he ran out of the room to go get the reindeer. One thing he failed to do was close the door behind him. 

You speculated your options. You had no idea where you were. You could be out in the middle of the ocean. Or you could be right about to dock at land. If you managed to scrape yourself about the ever-loosening rope and sneak out, you’d be free. You’d never have to worry about these pirates again. 

At this point though, did you want to?

You took too long to decide, the reindeer rushing into the room with his medical kit, the blonde one short behind him. As the reindeer gave you a dose of medicine and cleaned up your mess and the blonde one held your hand and consoled you, your attention stayed by the doorframe. Zoro leaned against the wood, watching the work from afar. What shocked you most of all was his face. For a man who seemed so disinterested in you and your existence, his brows were furrowed, his cheeks had a light pink stain on them, and a slight frown invaded his face. He was concerned. Maybe even a little nervous. But why? He’d never shown any sort of emotion towards you before other than sleepiness. Once the reindeer and the blonde one left, he continued with his shift. You noticed something though. He sat closer to you than he normally did. 

You couldn’t tell, but you were blushing the rest of his shift.

Once he left, you sat in silence, thoughts racing through your mind, until you finally fell asleep.

You noticed a change in his behavior in the next few days. When you would ask him a question, he would respond now. And with more than just a “yes” or “no” too. He had more energy around you and wouldn’t spend his whole shift asleep. He would even let out a chuckle now and then. You didn’t know what you had done differently to get him like this, but you liked him like this. He was sweeter than he let on. 

Something had changed in you too though. On the occasions, you would catch yourself looking over his appearance. The more you observed, the more you realized how handsome he was. His clear, warm skin, his hypnotic eyes, his striking hair. You caught his appearance giving you butterflies when he would walk into your storage room. Your heart skipping a beat when he would give you even the smallest smile. You would stare even more when he would nap during his shift. Noticing certain things. The way his breath would hitch sometimes. How he always slept with his mouth open and would wake himself up sometimes with his dry mouth coughs. How his chest rose and fell with his soft breaths. How fighting with a sword in his mouth probably made his tongue stronger than other men you’ve met. You felt weird about it sometimes. Almost like some freakish stalker. But you would feel better about yourself whenever you would catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. 

As time went on, the crew began to give you some more freedom. The tall woman began leaving some of her archeology books in the storage room to keep you entertained. The orange-haired one would show you all her marked-up maps. The long-nosed one would even let you out of the rope to test his inventions from time to time. With the door locked of course. And then, the big display came. One day, during everyone’s shift, they told you their names. The blonde one was Sanji. The orange-haired one was Nami. The reindeer was Chopper. The long-nosed one was Usopp. Their captain was Luffy. And the tall woman, who initiated your imprisonment, was Robin. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you. With each passing shift, you grew more excited for the next. To learn the next pirate’s name, and with that, their story. Until the last shift of the day came. And you realized.

You already knew his name.

“My name’s Zoro,” he said quietly. “I know,” you replied, bluntly. 

Something felt different about this shift. You didn’t feel the same excitement you normally felt when seeing him. Without your connection to him before, his being the only name you knew, something about him just didn’t excite you as much. Now he noticed your behavior change. “You okay?” he inquired. “Mhm,” you responded in monotony. The rest of his time there was spent in silence. 

You felt bad about what you were doing. This wasn’t his fault. Yet you were acting like this. It was almost as if the two of you swapped places. He was now the one trying to dig information out of you. And you gave him nothing more than blank faces and empty words. You wished you could figure out why you were acting like this, but you had no clue.

Today though, the crew was going to take an extra step towards including you. Throughout your time on the Going Merry, you had only left your little storage room prison a few times. To go to the bathroom and visit the kitchen on special occasions. But you hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. After proving to the crew you had changed, they planned a little surprise for you.

Robin woke you up earlier than usual. “Is everything ok?” you asked, still half asleep. Robin just smiled at you. “Come on, get up.” You looked at her confused, as she walked over to your restraints, untying you from the hook keeping the rope down. She took you by your restraints and walked you out to the room. The mix of drowsiness and confusion left you slightly panicked as you realized she was walking you out to the deck. She opened the door to a still-dark morning. 

The rest of the Straw Hats were sitting out on the deck, just conversing and eating an extra early breakfast, courtesy of Sanji. They all turned to you once you and Robin walked out. “What’s going on,” you asked, still very confused. “On Thursdays, we all like to get up early and sit out and watch the sunrise. And we were talking about it, and we felt like you should join us this time,” Nami smiled. She stood up and pranced over to you, mouth slightly agape and speechless, and took you over to sit in between her and Zoro. You turned to Zoro, overwhelmed with emotions. 

It had been so long since you felt a part of a community of people. You never exactly fit in with the ruthless bands of pirates coming and going on Jaya. Finally feeling connected to people, especially after you wronged them so horribly, brought you happiness you hadn’t felt in ages. 

A singular “I-” was all you could manage to get out, a tear trickling down your cheek. “Just enjoy it. They’ll be at each other’s throats again in a minute,” he joked, getting a soft laugh out of you. He smiled gently, brushing the tear off your cheek. His finger lingered there longer than expected. You blushed. The butterflies were back and you caught yourself staring again.

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Nami interrupted. “Well, it’s true!” Zoro retorted, leaning over you to yell at Nami. The two began arguing as you noticed the sun starting to peak out over the horizon. “Shut up you two, you’re gonna make her miss it!” Usopp and Luffy yelled. They stopped bickering once they also noticed the sky begin to turn orange. 

The pinks and oranges mixed together in a beautiful watercolor painting as the sun reflected its image on the ocean. The soft waves bobbed the ship up and down in a calming hypnotic motion, almost putting you back to sleep. The beauty of it all was so serene. Against popular opinion, you always preferred sunrises to sunsets. The representation of a new day beginning. It gave you hope in your most dire situations. 

You lifted your head back to see the colors slowly spreading to the rest of the sky. Everyone to your right was in the same headspace you were like they were in some sort of trance. They were all cuddling against each other, Robin holding Chopper in her lap, Luffy and Usopp mimicking each other’s smiles, and Nami resting her head on Sanji’s shoulder. They all seemed so close to each other. Like a little family. Connected. You turned to Zoro to see if he was doing the same as the others, but all you found was his eyes softly gazing into yours, and his hand slowly inching towards yours. The minute he snapped out of it, he sharply turned his head and hand away and cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh at his schoolboy behavior. With your ego controlling your actions, you took his hand and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. You could see a smile float onto his face out of the corner of your eye. You did the same.

The rest of the day was spent out on the deck. The feeling of the sun on your skin for the first time in weeks was euphoric. All you wanted to do was soak it all in. The Straw Hats must have been in a good mood today, because, with some extra convincing, you got them to finally take off your shackles. You spent most of the day sunbathing out on the deck with Nami. She had let you borrow one of your bikinis. You two were slightly different sizes though, so the suit was a little tight on you. You didn’t mind very much. You were just happy to be out of the same clothes you had worn for 3 weeks. Sanji didn’t mind either, ogling both you and Nami and basically worshipping the two of you. “It’s ok, he’ll get over it in a few hours,” Nami consoled. You circled the deck a few times to see if Zoro was anywhere in sight, but you couldn’t seem to find him. He probably went inside to nap away from the heat. Part of you wanted him to get the rest he deserved. The other really wanted him to see you in your outfit. 

The day really took a turn when Usopp brought out the liquor from the kitchen. “I was saving that asshole!” Sanji yelled. “Oh come on, this is a special occasion!” Usopp pleaded. With some more convincing, Sanji finally gave in. You and the crew got increasingly drunk throughout the evening, Zoro eventually coming out from wherever he was napping to join the party. You all had even decided to jump into the ocean and swim around for a little bit. All except for Chopper, very sober and very nervous for any incoming sea monsters. He had managed to get you all back onto the ship with some very convincing pleading.

You and Zoro caught each other catching glimpses of one another throughout the rest of the day. Zoro admiring your figure in the swimsuit, and you ogling at the way his damp shirt hugged at his muscles. One by one, as day grew into night, crew members began to pass out on the deck, deciding to sleep outside for the night. You and the other members who wanted to go back into the cabin, Zoro and Robin, made your way back down into the ship. “Make sure you tie her back up. No hard feelings but we can’t be too careful.” Even slightly tipsy, she was still her stern old self. “Yeah whatever whatever, goodnight to you too,” Zoro drunkenly pushed off. You giggled and blushed as he took your hand and led you down the stairs into the cabin. Robin sighed to herself as she watched the two of you scamper off.

You felt your heartbeat get increasingly faster as he led you to your room. For some reason, the air in the hallway got thicker as you got closer. You blamed it on your tipsiness. But your heart slowly sank as you got to the door, realizing you had to say goodbye to Zoro for the day. He opened the door and stumbled into your room, leading you in behind him. He closed the door behind him, hesitating for a moment before going to wrap the rope back around your wrists. 

He seems distressed for some reason, breathing heavily and avoiding eye contact. You look down at your hands, as he so gently maneuvers the rope around them. The butterflies begin to well up in your stomach again, the alcohol fueling their ferocity. His hands. So calloused yet so gentle. You can smell the remnants of sake exuding from Zoro’s heavy breaths. You looked back up at him. Were you two always standing this close together? You the butterflies keep rising and rising. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re not sure if you should run, kiss him, punch him, but you have to do something before you implode. Until. He stops.

The rope undoes itself in his hands as he freezes. His hands are shaking, his breath is heavy, and his eyes avoid yours like the plague. You were just getting antsy but Zoro seemed in distress. “Hey?” you ask, lowering your hands and dropping the rope to the floor. “Zoro?” You take your hand under his chin and lift his eyes to yours. You might throw up at any second. His eyes are so softly intense. 

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, sending chills down your spine. You both want the same thing. Both of you are just too scared to take the chance. “It’s ok. You’re okay,” you reassure him, placing your hand over his heart. His heart, which happens to be underneath his bare chest, him having taken off his wet shirt earlier. His breathing slows, and his eyes move down ever so smoothly from your eyes to your plump lips. You catch yourself doing the same to him, and you inching closer to him. “You’re fine.” Closer. “We’re gonna be…fine.” Your lips barely brush each other. The gentleness of the kiss is calming though, as you notice Zoro’s breath slowing. 

You brush again. And again. And again. Lips touching a little more with each meet. Until they fully interlock. The two of you melt into each other as Zoro wanders your back into a wall for support. Your kisses are structured, made to get the most out of each meeting. You’re both ravenous for each other, but you know if you go at each other like mad dogs, you won’t get what you want. So you both take your time getting to know the feeling of the other person’s mouth. You slip a moan out as Zoro’s tongue seeps between your lips. His kisses get slightly more sloppy as he runs his hands down your body. He feels the underneath of your breasts, the curves of your waist and hips, and finds a nice resting place under your ass. Your hands roam his cheeks and jaw, making their way to tug slightly on his moss-colored hair. 

“Needed this,” Zoro whispers in between kisses. “Needed you so badly. But I didn’t know how.” He separates his lips from yours and plants kisses and hickeys along your jaw and neck. “I was always just too nervous for some reason. You make me so nervous.” His hands find their way into your bikini bottom and fondle your asscheeks, getting a low moan out of you. The alcohol must’ve given him a confidence boost. “Good to see you found your footing now,” you whisper in his ear. He chuckles, the butterflies speeding up in your stomach. 

The two of you stay here for a little bit. Hell, you could stay like this for hours. Just soaking each other in. Feeling his warmth brought a fire into your soul. You could tell Zoro was getting a little antsy though, one of his hands moving from your back to your front, beginning to slowly circle your clit. The other hand went to your bikini, untying the back and letting it fall to the floor as his mouth moved to your breast. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body as you let him do his work. “God, you sure this is your first time?” you moaned out. He removed his mouth from your nipple to talk. “Never said it was, sweetheart. You just assumed it.” “Well from the loner vibe you got going on mixed with being on this ship 24/7, you can’t blame me for thinking that.” “Well the loner vibe worked on you, so who’s to say it hasn’t worked on others?” he smirked. You laughed to yourself as he got down on his knees.

Zoro slipped off your bikini bottom, completing the set on the floor. He kissed your v-line with the same softness he treated your lips to. He sat back on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, looking up at you, as if to ask for permission. You held your hand out to his cheek and rubbed it with your thumb. His eyes closed as he placed his hand over yours, as if you would ever take it away from him. God now this was a sight you could get used to. He was so infatuated with you it made your heart ache. He was right here at your disposal, yet you wanted more of him. So you bent down and gave him a sloppy forehead kiss. Once you were back up, he decided to go in. 

Like most things he does, he started slow and controlled. He kissed and sucked on your inner thighs. Once his hand finally left your clit, you knew he was ready. He kissed your cunt, using his tongue to lick up your wetness. You could pass out right now if you had less self-control. Whimpers and moans left your lips, your hips naturally starting to grind against his nose, relieving the ache in your clit. You let him know what felt good by the tugs and yanks you put in his hair. He was a natural. Your guess about his tongue earlier was right too. “You taste so good, just as I imagined,” Zoro breathed onto your lips. You could tell he was starting to lose his composure with the way he continued to bury his face into your pussy. Your cunt naturally tightened around his tongue as he tasted you. Your hips began to buck into his face as your grinding pace increased, the butterflies turning into a white heat you felt getting stronger and stronger. Your bud was becoming more swollen by the second. Your grip on his hair tightened to make up for your failing knees. 

You wouldn’t be able to take much more. Zoro wouldn’t either, his hand making its way into his pants to relieve his own bulge. His pace got faster to match your grinds. The smack of your lips against his tongue, mixed with both of your moans, was pornographically loud. Suddenly, the situation of Robin or another crew member hearing became an apparent one to you. That worry quickly left your mind once one of Zoro’s hands made its way to fondle your nipple. If he asked you to follow him anywhere right now, you might just do it if it meant this every other night. You felt he knew your body better than you did. “So pretty. So good for me. You make this so easy,” Zoro groaned between licks. “Zoro god fuck me please!” Your final whimper sent you over the edge as you wailed and came all over his perfect face. He licked up your juices as he finished his own job as well. Your knees finally gave out as you fell on top of him, into his arms.

He brought you down gently, straddling you on his lap as you wrapped your arms around him. He traced his cum soaked hand across your back and kissed your nape. You were more exhausted than expected, almost passing out in the crook of his neck. Even now, he was so gentle with you. “You did so good, darling,” he praised, kissing your earlobe. “Want…more…want you…inside me,” you managed to get out. He just laughed and pushed you up to look at you. “If you took me right now, I don’t think you’d wake up tomorrow morning. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open, sweetheart,” he teased. You pouted. “Oh, you feel that proud of yourself?” your drunkenness fueling your frustration. “No no no, sweetheart,” he chuckled. Once your frown didn’t change, he stopped laughing and pressed a kiss deep into your forehead. “I’m sorry. What I meant was, if I fucked you with everything I have left right now, which is the only way I would want to do it, this floor would leave us with sore backs for weeks.” You stayed frowning. “I want to fuck you right, the way you deserve. And I can’t do it for you right now.” You pouted more at him. He smiled up at you and leaned in closer to your ear. “If you trust me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be walking funny for weeks.” God, you almost came again just now. You didn’t notice how much your jaw dropped until Zoro laughed at you. You couldn’t help but laugh back in tune with his infectious laughter. 

He kissed you with a fever behind his lips, then scanned the room around the two of you. “What’s wrong?” you drowsily asked. The exhaustion from you coming, the sleepiness brought by the alcohol, and how late it was getting was starting to overpower you. Zoro didn’t respond. He just grabbed your swimsuit and helped you put it back on, tightened your legs around his hips, and hoisted you up as he stood. You decided to ask questions once you had a clearer idea of what was happening. He opened the door and walked with you down the hallway, passing the girl’s quarters and into the men’s room. He checked inside quickly before bringing you in and signaling you to bring your legs down. You confusedly followed him to his bed as he groaned, rubbed his back, and sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Wanna explain to me what you’re doing?” you asked, slightly more awake. “If you think I’m just gonna leave you to sleep alone, tied up, on that dirty floor after what we just did, then you must think I’m a really shitty guy,” Zoro quipped before getting under the covers and trying to pull you down. You put some resistance towards him though. 

“B-but Zoro, I’m not supposed to be in here.”

“I know.”

“If someone catches me in here we’re both fucked.”

“They won’t catch you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ll wake up before Robin starts her shift.”

“Are you sure, I mean I just don’t kn-.”

“Hey.”

You stop your nervous rabbling and look at him as he sits back up. “Do you want to go back and sleep on the cold, dirty, hard floor?” You really didn’t. “No.” “Then stay here with me.” “But what if-.” “Do you trust me?”

You sure hope you did after all of that. His kind eyes reassured you in the darkness surrounding the two of you. You took a deep breath and nodded. “Do you trust me?” he asked again. “I trust you, Zoro,” you confirmed. He smiled kindly at you. “You’re fine. We’re gonna be fine.” He steadied you by placing his hands on your hips, running his hands along your waist, and pressing his lips into your tummy. You loved the way he looked at you. Like you were his whole world. It was comforting.

He took your hand and helped you into bed. You bundled yourself under the covers and wrapped yourself around his frame. He kissed your temples one more time before slipping into sleep, his light snores hypnotizing you into a slumber of your own.

The last thing you remember before dozing off was the feeling of his hands on your waist.

Everything you wanted was right here. In front of you. Straight out of a dream. Your only fear was that it would be gone once you woke up.

a/n: THIS TOOK FOREVER GOOD LORD. anyways thanks for being here for my comeback era lol. my upload schedule is NOT going to be consistent this is just a little splurge i wanted to write lol. thank you for reading i really appreciate it (i also really appreciate engagement lol please like repost comment etc im greedy). i love one piece and i love zoro. once i meet law expect all hell to break loose im gonna write so much fanfiction about him its concerning hes so fine im so excited. anyways lol thanks love you bye.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Love in the Dark: Chapter Eleven

Love in the Dark: You discover an intense connection with a dream lover, yearning for a love beyond physical appearances. As your encounters blur the lines between the waking world and the Dreaming, your grapple with the complexities of desire, friendship, and mortality. Can you truly love in the dark?

Warnings: More Angst.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x NAMEDFem!Reader.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Matthew swoops back into the Waking World, landing once again on your window sill. His heart pounds in his chest, fear and hope warring within him. The moonlight bathes your apartment in a soft glow, and he strains his eyes to see any sign of you.

The light is on inside. The blinds are slightly askew, allowing him to see a sliver of the interior. A flicker of movement catches his eye and he holds his breath, waiting. And then he sees you.

You're there, sitting on the couch with a cup of something warm cradled between your hands. Your face is drawn, shadows under your eyes speaking volumes about the toll recent events have taken on you. But you're there. You're home.

Relief washes over Matthew and he caws softly in reassurance, though you can't hear him. He watches as you take a sip from your cup, then set it down on the coffee table with a sigh. You lean back against the couch, your gaze distant and lost in thought.

Summoning his courage, Matthew taps on the window with his beak. The soft sound catches your attention and you turn towards the window, your eyes widening in surprise when you see him. Slowly, you rise from the couch and approach the window, opening it just enough to let him perch on the sill inside.

"Matthew?" you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Matthew ruffles his feathers, his beady eyes full of concern. "Kora, what's going on? Everyone misses you. You look like you haven't slept in ages and I am worried that Fēlix is going to cry Petunia out of her treehouse! What is going on!?"

The raven's exasperated cries echo in the silence of your apartment. Matthew, ever the audacious bird, eyes you expectantly. But instead of a biting retort, a tired sigh slips past your lips.

"Matthew," you begin, your voice quiet and strained. "You don't understand."

He cocks his head to one side, scrutinizing you. The audacity of his stare feels heavy in the room, but you're too weary to feel truly bothered.

"Then make me understand! Okay? I used to be human, remember? Talk to me!"

A hollow laugh escapes you. "You want me to talk? Fine." Your red rimmed eyes, highlighted by the bags beneath, simmer with pained rage. "Mortals and the Dreaming do not mix," You tell him, your nose flaring and your eyes burning yet again. "Me and the dreaming don't mix!" The words hang in the air between you, heavy and fraught with unspoken meaning. You see Matthew's beady eyes widen as he digests your words.

"What the hell are you talking about, Kora?" he finally squawks, concern lining his voice. "What the fuck happened that had you running out of the fucking throne room?"

Your eyes, your pained eyes, which hold so much anguish and heartbreak, went dead.

"I opened my eyes, Matthew, I opened my eyes," you say, hollowness within your voice making the raven's heart drop. With that you harshly shut the window, blocking him from speaking more.

Matthew's words ring in your ears long after he has gone. You lean against the window, the cool glass soothing against your fevered forehead. "What the fuck happened?" He had asked a fair question. One that deserves an answer, even if it's only to yourself.

You trudge back to your couch, the weight of the world on your shoulders. Your gaze falls on the half-drunk cup of coffee sitting on the table, its warmth long gone. Like a puppet with its strings cut, you sink onto the couch, burying your face in your hands.

The silence of your apartment wraps around you like a shroud. In its embrace, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. You remember his voice, not Morpheus's royal tone but his softer, intimate timbre, as it whispered sweet nothings in your ear during stolen moments of ecstasy.

Your fingers trace over the place where his hands had caressed within your dreams. The way he would wrap an arm around you as if to protect you from everything outside your shared bubble of anonymous bliss.

But now...

Now that bubble is shattered.

You sit up straighter on the couch, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You need to be strong. You've been through worse and survived. You'll survive this too. But you didn't want to have to.

"I opened my eyes," you murmur into the silence, repeating the words you'd told Matthew earlier. The truth of it settles heavy in your chest. The dream lover who had captured your heart wasn't just any dream or nightmare... he was Dream himself. Lord Morpheus. The ruler of all dreams and nightmares, not just a creation of one.

You could live with spending your life within the arms of a dream or nightmare during your sleeping hours. You could live with that because somehow you could make it work. But not with an Endless. He is unobtainable because he isn't a dream or nightmare. He isn't made to be your own.

A tear slips down your cheek, trailing a wet path down to your chin before falling onto your lap. But there are no more tears after that one— you've cried enough for one night.

"I opened my eyes," you say again, this time with more resolve. "And I will keep them open.

It rains the next week, beginning on the night of Sunday and carrying well into Wednesday where you are numbly going through motions at work. You have several meetings to attend for marketing and sales and profit. Monotony.

You sit in the meeting, eyes glazed over as the presenter drones on about market segmentation and target demographics. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting harsh shadows across the faces of your colleagues. You try to focus on the PowerPoint slides, but the words blur together into an incomprehensible jumble.

Your mind keeps drifting back to the Dreaming, to him. The ache in your chest throbs with every heartbeat, a constant reminder of what you've lost. You clench your fists under the table, nails digging into your palms as you try to keep yourself in the present moment.

"Kora, what do you think about this strategy?" Your boss's voice cuts through your reverie, and you snap to attention. All eyes in the room are on you, expectant and curious.

You clear your throat, scrambling to recall what had just been said. "I think it's a solid approach," you begin, hoping your voice sounds more confident than you feel. "But we should also consider..."

As you speak, you feel a flicker of something at the edge of your consciousness. A whisper, a caress, a fleeting sensation that sends goosebumps racing across your skin. For a moment, you could swear you feel his presence, as if he's standing right behind you.

But when you turn your head, there's nothing there. Just the blank wall of the conference room and the puzzled faces of your coworkers. You shake your head, pushing down the surge of longing that threatens to overwhelm you.

"...consider the potential risks," you finish, proud of how steady your voice remains. Your boss nods, satisfied with your input, and the meeting continues.

You force yourself to pay attention, to take notes and contribute when called upon. But all the while, your heart aches with the knowledge that no matter how hard you try, you can't escape the pull of the Dreaming. Of him.

The meeting ends, and you gather your things with shaking hands. As you step out into the hallway, you feel a gust of wind brush past you, carrying with it the scent of night-blooming jasmine and something uniquely him.

It’s always been him.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you whirl around, searching for the source. But there's nothing there. Just the empty hallway and the distant sound of footsteps echoing off the linoleum. With a heavy sigh, you turn and head back to your desk, the weight of your heartache settling once more upon your shoulders. You have work to do, a life to live. Why couldn't your mind leave you in peace?

Rain pelts against your skin, drenching you in seconds as you walk home. You can feel your clothes sticking to your body, the fabric heavy and sodden. But you don't care. There's something cleansing about the rain, something that makes you feel as if it could wash away all the pain and heartache. You tilt your face towards the sky, letting the cool droplets splash against your cheeks.

Your shoes squelch against the wet pavement, each step sending tiny ripples through the puddles forming on the sidewalk. Your hair is plastered to your head, rivulets of water streaming down your back. But still, you walk on.

People rush past you, umbrellas bobbing as they hurry to escape the downpour. They give you wide berths, shooting you curious looks as they pass. You must look a sight, a woman walking alone in the rain without an umbrella.

A gust of wind sends a spray of water into your face and you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. It feels like surrendering to the storm, surrendering to the torrent of emotions raging within you.

You can't escape him, not in your dreams and not in your waking hours. He's everywhere and nowhere all at once. He's in the soft murmur of the wind through the trees, in the warmth of the sun on your skin, in the sound of rain falling on a tin roof.

But he's also in the silence that follows a blissful embrace after a tryst, in the space beside you where he should be occupying, in every moment that now feels empty without his echoing presence. Your heart clenches with longing and regret, with unspoken words and unachievable dreams. The rain feels like a mirror to your soul, wild and untamed, full of turmoil and beauty all at once.

As you turn onto your street, a particularly strong gust of wind nearly knocks you off your feet. You brace yourself against it, squinting against the onslaught of rain. Your home looms ahead, a beacon of warmth and safety amidst the storm. Rather than glumly march to the front door, you decide to grab your neighbors tricycle and drag it into the safety of the gated alley between your homes.

You leave the tricycle by your neighbors back door and turn to head to your own, curling your fingers into your palm as numbness begins to emerge. You are mere steps from your back door when the air changes in the small alley and you pause.

The wind picks up again, whipping your wet hair across your face. A chill races down your spine that has nothing to do with the rain. You turn slowly, the familiar presence behind you making your heart pound in your chest.

There he stands, in the shadow of your apartment building. Morpheus. You almost believe you are hallucinating, but his form is solid and rain is striking his body. Dripping from his midnight hair, running down string cheekbones.

"Kora," he begins, his voice a soft rumble that makes your entire body tremble. "May we speak?"

His formality makes you scoff despite the pounding of your heart. You cross your arms over your chest, feeling oddly defiant despite your soaked clothes, tangled hair, and raw heart.

"Go ahead," you reply, raising an eyebrow at him. "It's not like I'm going to wake up." You can see the flinch his eyes make, even if the action does not physically appear. Your words hurt him and even though your heart still feels raw, you don't feel joy in his reaction.

His gaze pierces through the veil of rain, capturing yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Kora," he implores, the plea in his voice wrapping around your heart. "Let us speak where you are not exposed to the elements."

His concern for your wellbeing, real or feigned, sends a wave of bitterness washing over you. Your fingers tighten into fists at your sides as you take a step closer to him, the rain plastering your hair to your forehead.

"No," you say, your voice cutting through the roar of the storm. "We talk here, Morpheus. Out in the rain. Or not at all."

His displeasure is palpable in the charged air between you. His lips press into a tight line and his gaze hardens. But you don't back down. You won't let him dictate the terms of this conversation. This is your realm, not his. You start to turn away, ready to retreat into the sanctuary of your home when his hand shoots out, gripping your arm. His touch sends an electric jolt through you, freezing you in place.

The rain pelts down on the both of you, yet the world around seems to fade into insignificance. It's just you and him, your gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. In a swift movement, he pins you against the side of your building, his hand still gripping your arm while the other one rests lightly against the brick wall beside your head. You breath heavily and wonder if he plans on stealing your sight like he had every time before.

And yet his gaze still holds yours, the stormy skies reflected in his eyes. The moment stretches out, the only sound the rain drumming against the pavement and your own heart hammering in your chest. Then, with a suddenness that leaves you breathless, his lips are on yours.

Shock ripples through you as his mouth moves over yours, his kiss passionate and demanding. Your eyes widen in surprise but you don't pull away. You can't. His presence is overwhelming, a storm within the storm. He is kissing you and you can see him. Your hands shoot up to cradle his jaw, your fingers trembling as they touch his skin, warm and real beneath your touch. It is almost laughable when your eyes shut on their own accord.

His lips move against yours with a fervor that steals your breath away, each kiss a desperate plea, an unspoken promise. His fingers curl around your arm, his grip tight and possessive. His other hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you.

Rainwater trickles down your face, mixing with the salty taste of his lips. His mouth moves against yours, warm and insistent. The cool rain pattering against your skin contrasts with the heat radiating from him, making you shiver in response. Then his hand moves from your waist to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your wet hair. He tilts your head back, deepening the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, drawing a weak whimper from deep within your throat.

Despite the rain soaking you to the bone, you feel warmth spreading through you from where his body is pressed against yours. His hand at the back of your neck tightens its hold on you as he pulls away from the kiss. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look up at him, breathless and dazed.

His gaze is intense as he watches you, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion that makes your breath hitch in your throat. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a raindrop that clings to your eyelashes.

"All I want," You whisper out, "Is you. But I can't love you in your dark."

His thumb pauses on your skin, his unwavering stare deepening. A glimmer of... remorse? Comprehension? It vanishes before you can interpret it. His ensuing words are a hushed murmur, almost lost to the rain's rhythmic dance on the pavement. "Then love me in your light."

With his words echoing in your ears, a desperate plea in the pouring rain, you make your choice. Your hands move from his jaw to the sides of his face, fingers splayed wide as you quickly pull his lips back to yours. You make your choice.

Date Published: 10/22/24

Last Edit: 10/22/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[angry-geese]

Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything. 

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7. 

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer. 

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it. 

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room. 

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost. 

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say. 

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two? 

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path. 

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!” 

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn. 

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself. 

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying. 

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her. 

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says. 

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable. 

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring. 

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter. 

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him. 

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say. 

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised. 

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet. 

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this. 

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable. 

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away. 

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in. 

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself. 

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway. 

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do. 

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments. 

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well. 

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in. 

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt. 

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee. 

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger. 

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all. 

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.

[theobjectofmyobsession055]

Of Wonders and Witches: Chapter 1 (Zagreus x Reader)

I know this game came out like 6 years ago, but I've only just gotten around to playing it and I am OBSESSED. Specifically with Zagreus. So, in honor of Halloween, here's the first chapter of my witchy little reader-insert starring everyone's favorite god! I'm not sure how many chapters this story will have, but I have a very clear plot mapped out for it, so hopefully I'll actually finish this one in a timely fashion lol. Enjoy!

Next chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zagreus’ blood roared in his ears as he trekked through the cold, his entire body thrumming with adrenaline. He’d done it. He’d finally done it. After all this time, attempt after attempt after attempt, he’d gotten past Hades, felled his own father. And now, now he was only a hair’s breadth away from finally meeting his birth mother. He wondered what she was like, if he looked like her in any way. Achilles told him he took more after his father, but surely there’d be some family resemblance, right? Whatever the case, he was sure she’d be an improvement from his father, anyone would be.

That was, if he managed to find her amid all this blasted snow. Nyx had given him clear directions on how to get to his mother’s abode, but it was proving to be far less simple getting there than he’d thought. The battle with his father drained him of just about all of the strength he had, leaving him with several egregious wounds that painted red across the snow as he walked. His mother’s hiding place was much farther away from the Temple of Styx than he’d imagined, but he refused to give up now, not when he was so close.

He gasped for breath, clutching the dripping gash on his side as he continued to trudge through the snow, every step feeling like he was resisting the weight of the heavens themselves. He’d never felt more sympathetic of Atlas’ plight than in that moment. But he had to carry on, he wouldn’t let himself fall like this.

A rock jutting out from under the snow caught his foot, sending him sprawling out onto the ground with a thud. He groaned, his eyes squeezed tightly shut against the screaming pain in his head. His every nerve was on fire, his body wailing at him to stop. He tried to struggle onto his hands and knees, only to find that he couldn’t make his muscles budge.

It was cold. So cold. Not even the constant warmth of his flaming feet was enough to shut out the bitter chill seeping into his bones. And he was so tired. He felt the pull of Hypnos, lulling him into slumber. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to close his eyes, just for a second. He was so, so tired.

Zagreus watched with a detached sort of curiosity as crimson blood seeped into the stark white snow around him, the puddle expanding and expanding. He thought back to the wondrous sight of the sunrise he’d seen just minutes before, the red sun spilling its color all across his uncle’s vast realm. He wondered why he’d ever been ashamed of bleeding red—it was such a beautiful color.

And then, the world went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scent of roasting herbs filled Zagreus’ nostrils. He groaned as he was roused from his slumber by the tantalizing smell, his head pounding. His eyes slowly fluttered open, his vision swimming slightly for a moment before his surroundings came into focus. He found himself seated on a plush recliner, bundled up in several soft, woolen blankets. He appeared to be inside a small cottage, the cozy interior decorated with paintings of creatures and places he’d never seen before. Bundles of herbs wrapped in twine hung in the windows, alongside various animal bones and crystals sitting on the sills. But the most striking thing of all about his new surroundings was the woman standing in the middle of the room, wrapped in a forest-green shawl and tending to a large cooking pot over the fire.

The woman looked up, her eyes alight with warmth as she regarded him. “You’re finally awake.” She turned to the cupboards behind her and retrieved a small wooden bowl, ladling a few spoonfuls of her concoction into it. She knelt down by Zagreus’ side and placed the bowl to his lips. “Drink. It’ll make you feel better.”

He did as she commanded, too tired and weak to resist. Warm, hearty flavors he didn’t recognize bloomed on his tongue, and he found himself greedily drinking down the entire bowl. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he’d been until his belly was no longer aching with emptiness.

Once he polished off the soup, the woman stood and filled the bowl once more. “Where…” he croaked, his voice hoarse and crackly. “Where am I…? Who are you…?”

The woman offered him a gentle smile as she set the bowl down on the end table beside him. “My name is Y/N. I found you unconscious in the snow, so I brought you back here to my home. In all honesty, I thought you were dead.” She retrieved a pitcher and poured its contents into a cup. “I’m glad to see that’s not the case. I don’t think I’d have the strength to dig a grave with the ground frozen solid as it is.” She chuckled, a low, soft sound that filled the cottage with warmth. She returned to his side and offered him the cup. “Water.”

Zagreus took the cup and drank, the coolness doing wonders for his scratchy throat. He coughed, dislodging the flehm from his esophagus. When he spoke again, it hurt far less. “Y/N… thank you.”

He was touched by this mortal’s kindness, shown to a complete stranger, no less. As he shifted, he realized that his wounds had been stitched together and bandaged. He could already feel his strength returning, his body beginning to heal his injuries. He picked up the bowl and drank deeply, savoring the satisfying flavor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in a very un-princely manner. “What is this stuff?” he asked. “It’s delicious.”

Y/N’s soft smile widened ever-so slightly as she watched him enjoy his meal. “Just pumpkin soup. Though I did add a few extra ingredients to promote healing. You’re lucky I’m the one who found you—not everyone is as well-versed in the curative arts as I am.”

Zagreus raised a curious eyebrow. A mortal with the ability to mend a god’s wounds with just a meal? He’d never heard of such a thing before. “Are you a witch, then?”

Amusement shone in her eyes. “You could say that. Though I prefer to think of myself as more of a healer than a true sorceress. I don’t spend my days cursing people I don’t like, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He thought of all the witches he’d slain in the Underworld, their gnarl-toothed grimaces as they spat hexes at him on orders of his father. Y/N didn’t seem much like them at all—kind, gentle, her appearance youthful and her voice sonorous. In truth, she was quite beautiful. No, nothing like the witches he knew of.

She sat down in a chair across from him, maintaining a respectful distance. She steepled her fingers together in her lap and pinned him with a curious, enigmatic gaze. Her voice lowered, far more serious yet no less kind as she said, “…I’ve seen many strange things come from the direction of the Temple in my time living here, but this is the first I’ve seen a person. Either you are very lost… or very lucky.” Her eyes shone knowingly as she looked him up and down, making him feel a bit exposed. “…And judging by the looks of it, I’d wager on the latter.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she held her hand up, silencing the words on the tip of his tongue. “I won’t make you explain, I’ve no interest in prying. I’m sure you’ve encountered far enough opposition thus. Just know that wherever you are going on your journey… tread cautiously.” Her expression sobered, her keen eyes examining him as though she could see directly into his divine soul. “…I sense much darkness surrounding you, enshrouding you with the warm cloak of night. That will serve you well if you wish to save yourself from the gods’ wrath, but even the darkest nights yet have the possibility to be illuminated by Olympus’ gaze. All that is to say… be careful.”

Zagreus blinked, shocked that a mortal could sense Nyx’s blessing so acutely. No true sorceress she said, sure. But even so, she didn’t seem interested in using her knowledge against him, which he thanked the Fates for. Her words of warning appeared to come from a place of genuine concern. He nodded, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with determination. “Thank you, kind maiden. For everything. I don’t think I would have made it through the snow were it not for your aid, so I shall heed your words—I’ll be careful.”

She smiled, and the entire cottage felt warmer. Zagreus stood from the recliner and stretched his stiff muscles. He still didn’t feel one hundred percent, but it was much better than being half-dead. He knew he’d be able to make it the rest of the way.

Then it struck him that he had absolutely no idea where they were, and thus Nyx’s directions were entirely useless. With a sheepish flush creeping up his face, he turned back to Y/N and asked, “Say, just for curiosity’s sake… you wouldn’t happen to know about any divine gardens around here, would you? Perhaps inhabited by a certain goddess…?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh! You’re looking for Lady Persephone’s garden?” A conflicted look crossed over her face, her brows furrowing together. “…Lady Persephone doesn’t take kindly to most visitors. I trust there is a good reason she remains hidden away here. But…” She examined Zagreus once again, her gaze piercing. “…I can sense you have no ill intentions. If you must go to her, I can tell you the way.”

He nodded firmly. “Yes, I must. Thank you. I will not forget your kindness.”

“Oh, feel free to forget if you wish. It is only the right thing to do, to help a soul in need,” Y/N said, as though she didn’t just save his life.

He took in the sight of the woman before him, sitting there with her hands folded demurely in her lap as she smiled up at him. His voice came out much softer than he intended as he murmured, “I don’t want to forget.”

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he could have sworn he saw a touch of red bloom on her cheeks. She looked down at her hands in her lap. “…As you wish.”

Y/N instructed Zagreus on where to go to find his mother, and he was pleased to hear that it wasn’t far at all from their current location. But before he stepped past the threshold and back into the cold, Y/N stopped him with a gentle but insistent hand on his arm. “Wait, take this.” She unclasped her shawl from around her shoulders and placed it in his hands. “It’s awfully chilly out there. It’s not much, but it should at least help a little to keep you warm.”

He was more surprised than he cared to admit. Usually he was the one giving gifts to others, not the other way around. Besides, he was a god (not that she knew that), surely she needed it more than him? “Thank you, but I can’t take this. You’ve already done more than enough for me. Won’t you get cold?”

She waved away his protests with a dismissive hand and started affixing the shawl around his shoulders. It was heavier than it looked, a nice, warm, comforting weight. “Oh nonsense, I have plenty more just like it. Take it, I insist.” She took a step back to admire her handiwork, her lips curled up into a gentle smile. “I must say, green is a rather handsome color on you, stranger.”

“Zagreus,” he corrected automatically. He wasn’t sure why he was giving her his name when he was almost certain he’d never see her again, but he couldn’t stop it from slipping past his lips. “My name is Zagreus.”

“Zagreus…” she repeated, his name falling off her tongue sounding even more addictive than the taste of ambrosia. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Zagreus. I wish you nothing but luck on your journey.”

Something deep within him stirred. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it compelled him to take her hand in his own and bring it up to his lips, placing a gallant kiss to her knuckles. “The pleasure has been all mine. Thank you again for your immeasurable kindness.”

This time, he knew he saw a red flush crawl up her cheeks. She pulled her hand away, which he released without resistance. But even so, a small, almost shy smile graced her lips. She cleared her throat. “Well, you’d best ought to get going,” she said quietly (almost reluctantly? Did he dare to hope?).

Zagreus steeled himself, standing up straighter. He had a mission to accomplish. “Yes. Farewell, Y/N.”

“Farewell, Zagreus.”

And with that final goodbye, he set back out into the snow. Y/N’s shawl proved to block out the cold just fine as he made the final trek to his mother’s home. Even though he was single-minded in his purpose, and he wasn’t entirely sure of what the future held, he found himself hoping that the Fates would see it fit to let them meet once again.

[huariqueje]

Winter Garden (the colour of snow) - Lara Cobden , 2024.

British , b. 1971 -

Oil and ink on panel , 29.5 x 21 cm.

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: vampire!natsuo todoroki x f!reader

word count: 3.5k

about: natsuo is handsome, well dressed, charming, and everything you’ve ever wanted but something tells you there’s more to him than meets the eye - given you can only see him after the sun sets.

contents: sfw, no smut here but suggestive behavior in the final scene. modern au, the todoroki family are vampires, natsuo is mid twenties and so is reader, a scene containing touya, fuyumi, and shoto, meet cute, reader struggles to sleep at night, mentions of blood. i will be further elaborating on this dynamic/au in the future!

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! welcome to week three! this is just good ol fashioned halloween romcom nonsense you'd come to expect from me. natsuo was the pinkprint and deserves his time in the sun so this is the first of TWO stories about him. the next will have smut, pinkie swear, but in the meantime hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Natsuo Todoroki, at his core, is a morning person.

How is one a vampire and a morning person? The two ideas seem contradictory but it’s just who he is, unable to be changed no matter how much time passes.

As a child, he would solemnly park himself at window sills and wrap himself up in the complicated and lacy curtains his mother dressed them in to keep light from getting inside. Waking with the sweet song of the birds outside his own heavy curtained windows, he’d watch the orange ball rise higher and higher into the sea of blue that it would come to rest in, only to be pulled away by his older siblings or his mother tutting at him for messing with the curtains again.  

He wondered what it would be like to be the sun. Bright and blazing, warming everyone around him without effort. It’s just what the sun naturally does.

Now, as an adult, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his scrubs after his shift in the emergency department ends and wonders what it must be like to be the sun as he wanders out onto the streets, zipping his jacket up over his chest and sinking into the warmth. It’s cold and wet in a way that is typical of an October night, the sliver of the moon sinking lower and lower as the sun begins to make her ascent to start the day.

He works his overnight shift for obvious reasons.

Dr. Todoroki’s reputation as affable and easy to work with is something the entire shift celebrates when he’s scheduled. He is well liked but nobody bothers to ask him to stick around once the shift is over because he’ll turn down the offers anyway.

There’s nothing more that he enjoys than his walks before dawn. It’s the only time he can even get this close to daylight, to feel the world heat up while he remains cold. 

Tonight, though, he isn’t alone on his walk and he’s all too acutely aware of where you walk several feet away from him on the adjacent sidewalk. He smells you long before he sees you, one of his fangs that keeps retracted at all times jutting out of his jaw and slicing his lip, and after verifying he isn’t bleeding he decides to keep a respectable distance despite his concern for your well being.

Why in the world are you out walking the city sidewalks by yourself at 3:58 AM?

You notice him, tall and broad and wearing green scrubs that obviously indicate he just got done working at the hospital, but you keep your distance. Walking the city is a choice you make well aware of the danger that could befall you but you also live by the “don’t start any and there won’t be any” mantra when it comes to trouble. So far it has served you well but it isn’t like you’ve ventured far from where you live, only around 6 blocks away from your tiny interior apartment. 

You struggle to sleep at night, trying every remedy under the sun but it never comes, so you walk until you can’t think any longer. You pace until you stumble into your home after the sun rises, almost too exhausted to move and then finally you are tired enough to sleep. 

Looking around the sidewalk, you splash in a puddle and hear a chuckle from the sidewalk across from you. Natsuo stands, hands still buried in his pocket, glancing at you from the corner of his eye and curiosity gets the better of you so you turn in his direction with your arms folded across your chest.

“What’s so funny?” Your tone is light hearted and he catches onto it immediately, gray eyes casting you more than a sidelong glance. The distance between the two of you keeps him from getting too good of a look at you but he likes what he can see. 

Natsuo finds you undeniably attractive, there’s something sweet about you besides your scent, and it makes him even more anxious to know you’re pacing all alone. The area around the hospital tends to be pretty safe but he worries what would happen if you went further down the road, where the amount of street lights grows fewer the further you go into the residential areas. So he bites, simply in an effort to make sure that you’re alright and will be okay after he departs.

“You, I guess.”

You laugh and he feels a thousand sunrises in his chest. Whatever he witnessed through curtains, whatever he has seen rising above the horizon like a beautiful balloon in the sky will never compare to this. He isn’t sure how to act so he slaps his hands against his thighs, shrugging and offering his signature Dr. Todoroki grin, toothsome and bright.

“I’ll be here all week.”

There’s an undeniable pull between you and this man but you stop just short of walking across the street. He seems safe and trustworthy, a good haircut and a killer smile but all of those traits were also attributed to Ted Bundy at one point or another so you decide to play it safe and stay in your place across from him, arms folded over your chest to ward off the chill in the air.

He watches your body language change and tries to match it the best that he can, keeping his hands buried in his pockets and his chin tucked into the collar of his jacket. Making you anxious is the last thing he wants and he won’t prod if you aren’t interested but his gut tells him to take a chance, to break the silence and see where it gets him. 

So he does.

“Seriously though, why are you out here at this time of night?”

Shrugging, you squeeze yourself where your arms are wrapped over your torso. It’s a soothing action, the equivalent of a hug. You feel better after it.

“Do you want the long story or the short one?”

“Whichever you’re most comfortable sharing.”

He chuckles again and you focus on his face, deep dimples visible even from several feet away and your heart beats hard against your chest. He’s handsome, he’s funny, he’s obviously employed…you shake your head to loosen this line of thinking, still holding yourself tightly when he takes the steps toward you to close the gap. You hop back from the edge of the sidewalk slightly, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you, and Natsuo feels that ache in his upper jaw that indicates his teeth are going to descend.

He takes ten steps to the side of you, leaving ample room between your bodies, and the ache stops enough that he can focus on what you’re about to say. You appreciate how respectful he is of your space although you have no idea his reasons aren’t wholly altruistic and it softens you toward the man further.

“I have never really slept well at night,” you start and he hums empathetically. He understands more than you could begin to know. “Even when I was a kid, it’s like sleep terrified me. Closing my eyes and not thinking and just being for a while. What could be more terrifying than not overthinking all night?”

“I get it. I have the same problem, that’s why I’m on overnights.”

You nod, smiling at him.

"Good to know there's someone else that doesn't have good luck with melatonin gummies."

A kindred spirit. Perhaps that's why you still feel so drawn to him despite the ten big steps between your bodies and you relax for the first time since he laughed at you, taking the time to really look at him now that he's so close.

He's just as handsome as you imagined when your mind was filling in blanks from across the street, hair as white as snow, tanned complexion, gray eyes. It's intimidating to see a man who looks like he belongs in the pages of a magazine face to face, much less one who is obviously flirting with you and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

Noticing your discomfort, he decides to introduce himself.

"I'm Natsuo. I'm a doctor." He cringes at himself upon realizing what he just said but you smile, arms still folded but posture slackening. "I don't know why I felt the need to tell you that."

You introduce yourself and he takes the time to memorize your name, repeating it and savoring the feeling of it across his tongue. A name as pretty as the person carrying it.

"It's okay, at least I know that you aren't some creep that stole a pair of scrubs off of the dude you just beat down for them. Unless..."

Natsuo laughs and heat rushes to your cheeks.

"Nah, I'm more of a lover than a fighter. My fatal flaw some might say."

You laugh and that same feeling blooms within him, rivaling the sun that is steadily beginning to rise over the buildings in the distance. He sighs when he sees it, removing his hand from his pocket and rubbing it over his face.

"I don't want to be weird or anything but I do this every night and..." he trails off, uncertain of what he wants to ask you, but you seem to get the message.

"I do, too. Same place and same time?"

Smiling, he nods and begins to walk in the direction opposite you toward where his car is parked at the hospital. He has to get home before the sun rises and he'll be cutting it close if he continues to slow play his departure but it's worth it for another second spent around you.

"Thanks for tonight. I needed it," you admit aloud and his ears turn red in response, bright and vivid through the snowy white hair barely covering them.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

“Where do you think you’re off to lookin’ so pretty?”

Natsuo rolls his eyes as he readjusts the buttons of the long sleeved shirt he donned just for the occasion of the evening while his brother reaches up and attempts to ruffle his meticulously spiked hair. It isn’t hard work for him to dodge his shorter brother but he shoves him with his shoulder anyway, frowning. 

“Stop it, Touya. I’m not going anywhere you need to know about.”

The thing about saying those words in reference to you, feeling them leave his lips in shapes he would rather not experience, is that they make his stomach flip. Anxiety turns the organ inside out, the man sighing through an army of uneasy butterflies in his stomach. He knows he can’t tell anyone about you, least of all his family. They have their own secrets but they’ve always strictly forbidden the taboo romance between a vampire and a human knowing it only ends in pain.

He’ll risk the trouble for you, though.

You - sweet, easy going, beautiful. Glowing with life beneath the dimly lit booths you snuggle in to press your knees against his long after the sun has set. Grinning as you grab his hand beneath the surface of the bar four blocks away from your apartment and two away from the hospital, the floors sticky with substances neither of you have cared to imagine. 

It has been months since that fateful first dawn walk, the two of you making a habit out of striding side by side. Natsuo ignores the ache in his jaw, you ignore the way he hasn't asked you for anything physical yet beyond holding hands, assuming he's just a little old fashioned.

“I’m starting to think you have a secret, little brother.”

He's keeping secrets from more than just Touya; the guilt gnaws at him if he thinks about it too long so he doesn't.

Natsuo shakes his head and raises his brows, a smirk playing across his lips. He happens to know where his own brother goes after the sun sets, eagerly bringing books and paintings to the home of the vampire that has been alleged to have started their family curse by biting Enji, their father; a woman perpetually 26 despite the many many centuries that have passed since her turn. 

“No worse than the one you’re keeping, I can assure you that.”

With that, Touya clears his throat and takes his space, fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants rather than making eye contact with his brother. Caught red handed and he knows it, he chooses to play offense rather than explain himself.

“You know about that?”

His younger brother smiles and claps him on the back with a nod.

“Keep mine and I’ll keep yours?”

“Obviously, dumbass.”

Taking a deep breath, Natsuo rolls his shoulders and lifts his hands to his hair, fingers running through it to calm him down. He yanks at the strands for a moment, thick fingers twining between the white strands, and Touya wonders what has him so uncertain. 

It’s not like he’s dating a human.

“I’m seeing someone and we have a date tonight.”

Oh, he’s dating a human.

“Jesus, Natsu,” Touya’s brows pinch together in the middle and he wraps an arm around his brothers’ shoulder, pulling him to his side. “You’re such a simp.”

Scoffing, the taller of the two looks down at his brother and frowns. He’s never truly astounded by Touya’s audacity but it does catch him off guard considering the only bigger rule you can break than consorting with a human in the Todoroki household is the one he’s currently attempting to bend.

“Who taught you that word? Your thousand year old girlfriend?” Touya returns his scoff, shoving him with the arm that isn’t wrapped around his shoulder and raising his voice. “She isn’t a thousand fuckin-”

Before he can finish the sentence, Fuyumi peaks around the corner and arches her brow wordlessly. Neither of the men can hide anything from their older sister so they don't bother, scooting over to let her into Natsuo's walk in closet just like they used to do as children when they were discussing the events of the world.

"So you're both breaking the big two?"

Natsuo sighs and nods sadly but Touya chuckles, clapping his sister on the shoulder just as he did his brother. That's one thing the siblings have always appreciated about one another - everyone is equal. Equal to give shit to, equal to protect, even Shouto who they all go to pains to take care of even more than the older siblings do one another.

"Please don't tell dad," Natsuo isn't above begging if it means he gets to keep you. He looks up at his sister through his lashes and she smiles back at him. "Of course, Natsu. We're all breaking some rule at the end of the day."

Both of her brothers raise their eyebrows and she shrugs, zipping her lips dramatically while the youngest of the four peeks around the corner with a deadpan glance.

"What are you guys doing in here?"

They look at his mismatched eyes and bunch together, making enough room for the fourth of them to squeeze inside.

"Natsuo's dating a human."

Fuyumi and Natsuo open their mouth to gasp and Shouto shakes his head. How his elder siblings haven't noticed at this point is beyond him, given Natsuo narrowly stumbles in the door as the sun rises every single morning, but the youngest has always been the most astute of the bunch.

"Yeah, obviously. He reeks of her every time he comes home."

Despite the terror of being caught, Natsuo belly laughs. There's nobody else he could be shoved in a closet with, admitting to lying to their parents and breaking the codes of honor the entire family have taken seriously as long as they've existed.

They all have secrets, Fuyumi was right. He is relieved and he feels full of love, group hugging his siblings and squeezing them as tightly as he can until all three start to groan and slap at his biceps.

"Okay well now that the cat is out of the bag can you guys leave me alone? I'm already running late."

Fuyumi and Shouto are the easy sells, wishing him luck and leaving to go gossip across the house but Touya sticks around, looking at his little brother that has become a full grown man with his own life and career and apparently, love.

He's proud but he'll never say it out loud instead choosing to further antagonize.

"Does she know?"

Natsuo shakes his head and Touya hisses through his teeth, clapping his brother on the shoulder and walking out of the closet.

"Good luck with that."

He knows that he'll need it.

"Do you want to come inside?"

This is the first time you've offered the option to Natsuo, his discomfort with any physical affection keeping you from broaching the subject this far, but the time feels right. The two of you spent the evening at an outdoor art show, admiring pottery and painting with your hands joined.

You are undeniably attracted to this man and you hope that you aren't misreading his affection toward you as more than simple friendliness, your evenings spent with him some of the best you've had since you can remember. Your hands remain linked, fingers twined and dangling in the small space between your bodies where you both lean against the frame of your front door.

Natsuo smiles down at you and it feels like the world disappears, walls and floors and atmosphere melting into something that doesn't matter when he looks at you. You've known it for awhile but there's no denying it - you're in love with him and asking him to spend the night, or morning rather, feels like the most logical next step.

His hesitation makes you doubt yourself, though.

"You don't have to, Natsuo. I know you're busy an-" he cuts you off by grasping your cheek with his free hand, thumb running along the soft skin beneath it. He has never been this close to you before, his teeth aching despite his self restraint, and he knows that tonight he must decide to be honest or leave you behind.

The thought of leaving you behind breaks his heart. You are the sun that he has so badly craved his entire life and there's no way he can continue without you, even if it means telling the truth and putting you both in the way of trouble in the process.

"I want to."

Smiling, you reach for the door and unlock it, keying in the code that you know he watches. You hope he has it memorized, if not you'll remind him again later. The lock unlatches, a mechanical whirring in the door, and as soon as the door opens he has you pulled against his body.

Pressed against the door, he finally kisses you. It's hungry, something raw and fiery beneath his exterior coming to the surface and you know that you'd let him have every bit of you right here on the floor if he wanted it. The scent of his cologne and the feel of his hands across your sweater clad body make you moan into his mouth and you yelp when something pokes your lip, assuming he nipped you a little harder than intended.

Mortified, Natsuo backs away from you with wide eyes and you see his tooth poking out of his top lip. The tip of it is dotted with blood from your lip and he backs away from you unable to hide his horror.

"I'm so sorry, I..." he mumbles a string of apologies and you put your hands on his chest to stop him, close enough to him that his body reacts naturally and his second fang descends through his jaw and peeks out of his top lip to join the first.

Your wide eyes gaze at him but hold no fear and he marvels at you. You are so trusting, so brave, so kind despite now knowing he's a...

"Vampire."

It takes all of you to contain the smile on your face from becoming too big when the word leaves your lips. You had an inkling something was different about him but you never assumed it would be this.

Dr. Natsuo Todoroki, your walking buddy, your companion, is a vampire.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Using the grip you have on his chest, you pull him down until he's face level with you. The same smile dances across your face and you waste no time kissing him for real this time, paying no mind to the way he whimpers when his tongue laves over the small puncture wounds his teeth have left on your bottom lip. You let him lick over the spots until he gets his fill, head swimming and heart full.

"Yeah, me too, because I would have done all of this months ago."

Natsuo laughs, kissing you again. His brows knit together when he laps at another pinprick of blood on your lips, another sweet groan leaving him.

You taste as good as you smell and his instincts tell him that you've just given him a tiny taste of all you're willing to offer.

[grimini]

[pooks]

straw hat!Ichiji during Whole Cake Saga, but he's having a very Bad Time™

---

He was locked up, like a feral animal in a cage.

Ichiji had always known that he was running on borrowed time, that it was only a matter of time until Judge caught him and dragged him back to Germa.

Panic and anxiety grew in his chest, making it harder to breathe. Out...he wanted out of here...he needed to get out of here! Every primal instinct went haywire inside him. His heart kept banging against his ribs, trying to break its prison. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time.

Cuffs on his wrists. They were different than the ones forced on Sanji's own wrists. No, these were Germa-made and instead of blowing off his hands, electric volts would be sent through his body. Judge didn't want him to be "harmed", but to teach him a lesson about loyalty and obedience.

The bastard wasn't going to let him escape this time. Not when he got his "masterpiece" back. Ichiji was, after all, the one who was most successful. He had taken on two sets of genetic modifications and surgeries.

He was Sparking Red and Stealth Black at the same time.

Ichiji shook his head. This place was already messing with his head. He had to get out, he needed to escape...back to the ocean.

He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. His long red hair had been cut, against his will. He sported the same hairstyle he had as child...before he became self-aware...before he realized he loved his little brother Sanji and was prepared to die for him.

'I'm going mad...I'm turning insane! This cursed place is driving me crazy!'

Ichiji sat on the window sill, staring out through his bedroom window and watched the ocean in the distance. He thought of the Sunny and felt homesick, he longed for the gentle sway of the waves and the howling winds of a storm.

He missed Franky's booming laughter, how he could easily sit on his shoulder and smile softly when the cyborg talked excitedly about the latest upgrade on their ship. He missed sitting in the library, typing away their latest adventures on his beloved typewriter and Robin, sitting next to him, reading her books and inquiring about his theories regarding the next Poneglyph.

The ones he loved most in his heart, filling the empty void Ace had left in him and showered him with so much love and devotion. More than he certainly deserved.

He would never see them again.

Ichiji stared at the metal bars covering his window, attached from the outside. His bedroom door was automatically locked from the outside as well, trapping him inside four walls.

It didn't matter how the room was like he had left it. All interior made of the best material in existence, decorated with the most expensive and rare items...it was still a cage. He was a prisoner inside a golden cage.

'Congratulations, Vinsmoke Judge.' Scarlet Ichiji, the archivist of the Straw Hat Pirates, thought bitterly. 'You've finally caught me.'

After the wedding, Sanji would belong to the Big Mom Pirates. but he'd at least leave Germa for good. His hand would be the price for a piece of freedom.

But he would never leave this hellhole again.

'My dearest Robin...was this how you felt at the Enies Lobby? Shackles on your wrists and chained to tyrants who would only use you as a weapon? Stripping away your humanity...was this exactly how you felt? This agony, pain and humiliation?'

Ichiji swallowed, his throat felt thick.

'Franky. I'm sorry. I don't think I will see you building the ship of dreams, after all. I hope you and Robin can forgive me one day.'

[the-trash-eating-llama]

Hey, I've finished ðe 1st and second chapters of my new book. I'm posting ðem boþ here, as I can't find where I posted ðe first one when I first made it.

I will be tagging ðis post as "llama writes" from now on, for ease of access.

On wiþ ðe reading!

As all things go, it was quiet. The season was autumn, the usual browns and greens of dirt and moss that often blanketed the forest gave way to spectacular oranges yellows and reds. Yes. Reds.

The red of a new flower, the red of a fallen leaf, and the red of painted wood. Nestled in between the exposed roots of trees long since fallen, lay a door, red as a dying sunset, circular in nature, with a shiny brass doorknob, protruding from the bottom of this now horizontal birch tree. How quaint.

And as it were, this was not just any fallen tree, nor just any door. No, this was the house of a woman, and no ordinary woman mind you, as she was possibly the toughest woman to ever dare live, for she harbored a curse. This, is her story.

Once, a very long time ago, the woman was but a boy, who carried water in a bucket for his mother, who needed that water for her bread. The bread was not easy to bake, it could take swaths of time to make one handful, but it was always necessary to have some, for it was never eaten immediately. The bread was used to make pies that could last for weeks.

The boy never understood why his mother would spend so much effort on making bread she never ate, as it was for the boy’s sister, who would bring the meat home. After a long day of hunting, she would carry the meat back home and have her mother put them in the pies, and eat some leftover soup with bread on the side.

The boy on a bright day walked down the dirt road, into the local hunting forest, through the brush, over a small creek of stones, and plopped down on a stump of a recently fallen ash tree, and pondered. He liked pondering, he found, the time he spent on that stump was often his most favorite time awake. Certainly better than carrying heavy buckets of water, he would think to himself.

But eventually, we all tire of the questions we have going unanswered, so after spending some time out there, a kindly tree near his spot would drop a leaf on his head, to tell him to go back home, and so he would. And he would ask his tired mother about his questions on the way of it all, and he would get told he spent too much time questioning the way of things and not enough time submitting to their forces. And then he would ask his wise sister about the general way of it all, and she would simply describe how things worked and what would happen if, but the boy never did find interest in the what will, only the why.

And so, he would find himself walking along those trees the next time he awoke, slumped on his stump, stumped by the general way of things. But this is not where the story ends, merely begins.

For, you see, one day, the winds began to change.

The boy, after a long day of carrying his bucket, he asked his mother why the leaves were a new colour, and his mother, who had not seen the trees that week, looked through the small window in her work house, and right jumped out of her skin. The leaves had changed, but much sooner than she would have hoped.

The mother took a moment to calm herself, for now was the hardest day of her year, autumn. Now, to most, autumn is but sweaters and scarves, but to her home, it was death.

The mother told her boy to get some rest, and take an extra blanket with him, for it would be a long night. The boy had little concept of night, but knew it was the part you slept through. So off he went to bed, wrapped in not only his sleep clothes and soft white fur blanket, but also in a new musk ox blanket handwoven by his sister to keep even the bitterest of frost out.

The boy slept well, but when he awoke, did not find a usual sight. Unlike the often bright window sill he was used to, spilling light all over the interior of his small room, it was dark, as if someone had draped blankets over his window, like his sister would do if the wind started to pick up and throw rocks at their house. The boy never did like those nights.

So the boy thought to himself that perhaps the time he was asleep was long enough to see, or rather miss, the beginning and end of a nasty storm. Reasonable as this conclusion was, when the boy reached out to remove the blanket, he only felt glass, as there was no blanket, and there was no storm.

For the boy had long since understood day, it was time for him to understand night.

With a sudden creak from nearby, the boy was awake, but had yet to see, for the room was blanketed in darkness.

“Hello?” He asked to no one in particular, and much to his chagrin, they answered.

“Greetings fine fellow, how may the night find you?” They boy gasped and tried to sit upright in his covers, but unfortunately could barely even squirm.

“Who are you, and what’s going on!?” Wherever the boy thought the voice could have come from, he certainly did not expect a quite large eagle.

“I am your friend, and you are being attacked.” Spoke the eagle, which was very impressive for such a bird.

“Why can’t I move!?” Cried the boy, trying his best to kick, punch, sit up, or much of anything.

“Now you’re supposed to introduce yourself to me, but I suppose that will have to wait for other circumstances.” Announced the eagle, which then jumped on the bed and turned away from the boy, stopping the boy from seeing what little he could of his room.

“Please, help me!” The boy wailed, but the bird hushed him with what can only be described as a ksssssst before a second entity emerged into the room, this time from the closet instead of the shadows.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fowl.” Grumbled a voice most grumpily.

“Fyrirboði, how did I guess.” The eagle retorted, it was clear to the boy these two had a history, and he was in the middle of it.

“I wouldn’t doubt your tracking skills for a second, although I can tell you lack a partner still.” The grumpy grumbler grumbled, grumbly.

“My private life is no longer of your concern, and your presence here proves your assertion false.” The eagle defended, which puzzled the boy even more, who were these two, and why were they having such an argument in his bedroom?

“Of course, I simply wished to hear it from you, as you never do own up to your own words.” Fyrirboði stated, a statement that implied a long history indeed.

“Now leave Fyrirboði, I have no need to see you ever again.” Croaked the eagle, clearly on the edge of their limit.

“And that is where you are wrong, but I will heed your request, I always do.” And with a sudden decline of tension in the room, Fyrirboði was gone.

“Can I speak now?” The boy asked the bird, who now faced the boy with tears in their eyes.

“Yes you may, but please stay seated.” And as if the boy’s body thawed from ice instantly, he could move once again.

“What was all that, and what is going on!?” The child once again asked of the eagle.

“My name is Gripur, and I can be trusted, now as you can see, you are no longer safe here, and we must move.” Cawed the bird, answering absolutely zero of what the boy just asked.

“Oh, and before I forget,” continued Gripur. “What is it I shall call you?”

“Nemandi, and I need to tell mother about this.” Replied the boy, dazed and confused from the current situation.

“Well, Nemandi, you are the only one currently in this house, so I suggest we leave it before you disappear too.” Gripur described, leaving Nemandi with not only a degree of emotional whiplash, but also a full bucket of worry. At this rate, Nemandi might need a second bucket, or at least two trips.

“Outside, I can do that.” Nemandi agreed, finally.

“Good.” Replied Gripur. “Because we face more than old rivals tonight.”

So, how did you like it? I just finished it, so any criticism I can get would be helpful.

@decoysender @tangerineflavouredduck @mag150cul-de-sac @cannibalcanid @bigmeatpete69420 @illululusion @lovelythenabeana

Ðank you guys for inspiration!

And I will see you soon wiþ my next chapter.